


rising phoenix

by Rhiannon87



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannon87/pseuds/Rhiannon87
Summary: Din escapes Nevarro with the child and a quest. And a jetpack that he needs to learn to use. (Post S1 Ep8.)
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	rising phoenix

It’s taken a few days of sleep, bacta gel, and lying very still on the floor of the cargo bay, but his body no longer feels like it’s about to fall apart. He’s still sore and stiff, but given everything that tried and failed to kill him recently, Din figures he has an excuse.

The kid is dozing in the backseat as the ship comes out of hyperspace. Din scans the planet he’s chosen and nods. It’s a lot like Sorgan: no major urban centers, no industry, miles upon miles of empty wilderness. He’d thought about going back to Sorgan, at first, but decided against it almost immediately. Too much risk of leading the Empire back to that village. They don’t need any more trouble.

There are villages on this planet, too, and Din steers clear of them all. He’s not staying here for long, just a few days before they move on. He knows his quest, and he knows that if he doesn’t take the time to prepare himself, he’ll fail.

He’s let the kid down too many times already.

The ship thumps gently to the ground, and there’s a faint squeak of surprise from the backseat. “Rise and shine, kid,” Din says as he shuts down the engines. “Wanna take a look outside?” The kid yawns hugely, stretching his little arms over his head, and Din can’t help but grin. “You can stay in here if you want,” he offers, standing. “Keep napping.” The kid coos at him and holds his arms out. Din chuckles and picks him up. “All right, come on.”

It’s cool and humid outside, a light mist covering the ground. His footsteps are muffled on the carpet of pine needles, and the thick scent of pine fills the air. Din switches his scanners to thermals, sweeping the area for potential threats. He expects more problems from predators than people, this far out, but if the last few months have taught him anything, it’s that he can’t be too careful.

Aside from birds and a few rodent-like critters, there’s not much around. “You wanna help me set up some targets?” Din asks. The kid looks up at him and blinks his big eyes. Din sighs. He’ll need to figure out a way to carry the kid while keeping his hands free at some point. Should’ve kept that bag IG-11 had.

He grimaces at the memory, chest going tight. _Stupid droid._ The kid coos, his ears drooping, and taps his claws against Din’s armor. Din shakes his head to clear it. “All right. You…” He looks around and spots a fallen log near the edge of their clearing. “Are gonna sit right here. Okay? I’m not going far. Just need to grab some branches.”

More blinking. Din sighs. “I wish I knew if you could understand a word I’m saying,” he mutters. “I’ll be close by. Don’t eat anything.”

With that, he steps into the forest to start his search.

It takes him about an hour to set up. The kid doesn’t wander off, which is a surprise until Din catches him digging grubs out of the rotting log and shoving them into his mouth. He tries to move the kid to less tempting spots, but every time he comes back from the woods, he’s right back on the log. The grubs don’t seem to be hurting him any, and he’s _definitely_ eaten worse without ill effect, so Din eventually gives up. 

Setting up a field of targets isn’t the easiest task, but by the time he’s done, there’s half a dozen thick, roughly human-height branches planted upright in the clearing. Din sits down on the log next to the kid with a sigh, then unhooks his canteen from his belt and tips his helmet up enough for him to drink. He feels a tug on his pant leg, then weight on his lap as the kid clambers onto him. It’s fine, right up until two little hands grab the edge of his helmet.

He yanks it back down and frowns at the kid, who immediately drops his hands and his ears. “No,” he says firmly. “This stays on. Understand?”

The kid looks down, almost as if he’s ashamed, and Din heaves another sigh. “It’s okay,” he says, gently patting his back. “I’m not mad. Just don’t do it again.”

The kid coos at him, and Din shakes his head, picks him up off his lap and sets him back on the log. “Right.” He stands and checks to make sure his jetpack is secure on his back as he eyes the targets he’s set up. “This is Rising Phoenix style,” he says. “Jetpack combat. Flying with it is one thing, fighting with it is something else.”

He’s not sure why he’s telling the kid any of this. The Armorer made it clear he wasn’t to be trained as a Mandalorian, that he’s to be returned to his own kind. But she also said that until then, he’s to act as the kid’s father, and he swore to the Creed to raise any children he had as Mandalorians. Not that the kid is _his_ , really. He’s just his guardian for a while.

He stops and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. It doesn’t matter. He’s taking care of the kid, and the kid seems to like it when he talks to him. Everything else… he can worry about everything else later.

Din opens his eyes and looks at his field of targets. It’s not the best practice--real opponents aren’t going to hold still while he flies over to them. But this isn’t the Fighting Corps. There aren’t a bunch of fully armored Mandalorians available, willing to be kicked in the head while teenagers learn how to use jetpacks.

Grief explodes in his chest, filling his lungs with shards of glass and his mind with the image of the Covert’s empty armor. Those were their faces, the only faces he’d ever known of them, piled in a heap without the bodies and souls that gave them life. And it was because of him. Because of his mistakes, his greed, the beskar wasn’t worth it, he should’ve just taken the kid from the start and never gone back--

There’s a sudden weight on his foot, and he looks down to see the kid sitting here, arms wrapped firmly around his leg in something like a hug. The ache in his chest eases a little, and he bends down to pick the kid up again. The kid babbles at him as he walks him back to his log. “You sit here and watch, okay?” Din doesn’t wait for a response, just turns away, gets a running start, and activates the jetpack.

His practice is entertaining for the kid, at least. It sure doesn’t seem to be helping _him_ a lot. Din launches himself into the air again, aiming a kick at the front target. He misses squarely, again, and shoots forward towards the treeline. A frantic slap on his gauntlet cuts the rockets and drops him unceremoniously back to earth. He sighs, staring up at the cloudy sky and treetops overhead, the kid’s delighted laughter echoing in his ears.

He pushes himself upright and looks across the field. “I’m glad you’re having fun,” he grumbles and gets to his feet. He’s been at it for a couple hours without much improvement, and his body’s beginning to protest. He’s not as young as he used to be.

“All right, I think that’s it for today.” Din scoops the kid up and props him against his shoulder. “You ready to head back in?”

The kid babbles excitedly and tugs on Din’s cloak, bouncing in his arms. Din frowns at him. “What? What do you want?” More babbling and bouncing. He thinks for a moment, then raises his eyebrows. “You wanna fly?” The kid hadn’t minded much when he’d flown them back to the ship, after Nevarro, but he hadn’t seemed especially excited, either.

The kid’s babbling doesn’t change. Din shrugs and shifts his grip on the kid, holding him more firmly, then activates the jetpack again. They shoot up into the air, and the kid shrieks in delight, ears flapping in the wind.

Din laughs, the sound surprising in his own ears. “You like that?” He angles himself to kick off a tree and goes flying in a different direction. The fuel for this thing isn’t cheap, and he knows he shouldn’t be wasting it. But the kid’s having fun. It’s worth the expense.

They do a few passes up and down the clearing before Din touches back down. “Now we’re _really_ done for the day.” The kid gives him a decidedly judgmental look, and Din snorts. “You want food?” That gets the kid to perk up. “Yeah, I thought so. Let’s get some dinner, huh?”

He sets the kid on one crate and the jetpack on another, then starts digging through his rations. Today’s been… good. He doesn’t have many days he can say that about. And he knows it won’t last; he can’t stay here forever, and the kid will go back to his people eventually. But he can enjoy it for now.


End file.
